Coping
by madmother2
Summary: After the death of his father, James doesn't turn up for work so a worried Lizzie does the only thing she can think of. Pre romance.
1. Chapter 1

Lizzie Maddox dropped her phone on the desk with a grunt of frustration; no answer again! She was beginning to get seriously worried about her DI. She'd called numerous times and been round to his flat twice but despite the lights being on, he hadn't come to the door.

It had taken a while for her to bond with DI Hathaway but now, thanks in large part to DI Lewis, they worked well together and she'd become quite fond of the sarcastic, overly intellectual, introverted so and so.

Frowning, Lizzie tried to decide what to do. Hathaway's father had died two weeks ago. It had been expected and whilst DI Hathaway had been subdued, he'd been fine. He'd taken some time off but had been expected back at work the day after the funeral. Yesterday, in fact. But DI Hathaway wasn't here and hadn't been in touch with Lizzie, Moody or anyone else at the station.

Lizzie had automatically covered for him with Moody, saying that James had food poisoning, but now she was beginning to regret that. Hathaway didn't particularly like Moody so he wouldn't welcome the chief super's interference in his life so a confession to Moody was going to be Lizzie's last resort however, Hathaway was so reliable that Lizzie was getting really worried.

Lizzie considered going round to Hathaway's flat again but Tone was on one of his rare trips home and she really didn't want to be late home. Perhaps she could call someone? Lizzie's hand hovered over her phone indecisively, almost pressing the button that would speed dial DI Lewis but he was still in New Zealand so what would that achieve? She'd just ruin his holiday.

Taking a deep breath, Lizzie dialled a different number.

* * *

James woke abruptly, recoiling as cold water hit his face. Completely befuddled, he dried his face with the bottom of his shirt and looked blearily at his attacker. It took a moment for him to focus and then he was gaping stupidly at Jean Innocent,

'Ma'am? What? Why?'

Jean Innocent looked grimly at him and said,

'Get up.'

Trying to think what he could have done to offend her, James levered himself upright, grabbing hold of the sofa to avoid falling over.

'When did you last eat?'

'I… I don't know,' admitted James, wishing that his brain would start to work even a little bit. Why was Innocent in his flat? Did she have a key? Was he late for work? Even as he thought, something niggled at the back of his mind, suggesting that there was something wrong with that suggestion, but it wouldn't come into focus.

As his brain tried to work, he became aware of just how hungry and thirsty he was. James decided to get a drink of water so pushed off from the sofa to go to the kitchen. Instead he pitched forwards, ending up half on the sofa and half on Jean Innocent. Not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that he'd missed her chest, James mumbled apologies as he tried to extricate himself. Sighing, Jean gave him a firm shove on to the sofa and said,

'For God's sake, James! Sit there and don't move.'

James managed to get himself into a sitting position and sat there, bemused, as Jean Innocent went into his kitchen and started rummaging through the cupboards.


	2. Chapter 2

Jean Innocent frowned thoughtfully at James as she brought him a glass of water then looked around critically, using her years of experience as a detective to assess the room. When Lizzie had phoned, Jean had dropped everything and rushed back from Ipswich, frantically worried.  
Finding James lying, apparently passed out drunk on the floor had made her furious. Furious that he'd be so stupid and furious that he'd scare them all that way. However, unless James was the tidiest drinker she'd ever met, it seemed that her initial assumption was wrong. There were no empty bottles in the kitchen nor in the lounge and when James had landed on her there had been no smell of stale alcohol at all (and fortunately no smell of vomit or any of the other revolting things that there might have been (she had had some truly revolting experiences when on the beat)). And both the kitchen and lounge were tidy too.

James gulped down the water and she took the glass from him, saying,

'More?'

'Yes, please.'

Jean refilled the glass and went back into the lounge, finding James struggling to stand.

'James, sit down.'

'I…uh…need to…'

James blushed as he pointed in the direction of the bathroom and Jean resisted the temptation to tease him; surely he couldn't be this easily embarrassed normally. Instead she said,

'Here, lean on me.'

She put an arm around his waist, amazed again by how tall he was, and got him to put his arm round her shoulders and helped him to the bathroom. James' balance was still off and Jean was glad that his flat was only on one floor as they staggered across the room. Once they were inside the bathroom, Jean said,

'Do you need a hand or can you manage?'

She kept her voice completely matter of fact even though she was acutely aware of how incredibly awkward it would be if James did need help. Once James was more awake he'd probably be horribly embarrassed that Jean had seen him in his pyjamas and if she had to help him now he might never speak to her again.

James went the brightest red that Jean had ever seen anyone blush and said,

'I can manage.'

Jean made sure that he was stable on his feet then left him to it.

A quick check round the rest of the flat left Jean even more convinced that alcohol wasn't the issue. Not only did she not find any empty bottles but there was an almost full bottle of single malt scotch in the bedroom and half a dozen bottles of beer in the kitchen. Puzzled, she waited until she'd helped him back to the sofa and he'd drank some more water then said,

'James, what happened?'

James blinked blearily at her and said,

'When?'

'Sunday night.'

'Nothing. At least I don't think so.'

'Do you have a thermometer?'

'No.'

'In that case I'll have to do it the old fashioned way.'

Jean reached up and put her hand on James' forehead. It was cool, warming slightly under her hand.

'I don't think you're running a temperature. How do you feel?'

'Sluggish. As though I'm wading through treacle.'

'No headache? Dizziness, nausea?'

'No. Though as you may have noticed my balance appears to be slightly off at the moment.'

Jean felt relief going through her at the return of James' usual sarcasm but it was quickly subsumed by concern. Going over to her handbag, she took out a torch and turned it on, shining it in each of James' eyes in turn. As far as she could tell, both pupils reacted normally but Jean was aware that her medical knowledge was limited to what she'd learnt in first aid courses.

'James, we need to check you for head injuries. Tell me if anything hurts.'

Jean looked carefully first then ran her hands gently over James' head. There was no sign of any injury and his hair was so short that it was hard to see how she could have missed it.

'Any pain?' she asked.

'No. I just feel fuzzy. And thirsty and very hungry.'

'I'll get you something to eat in a minute. Is it all right if I have a proper look round? We need to find out what happened.'

'All right,' said James.

He sounded confused still and Jean realised that he didn't know that he'd lost nearly two days. She would explain later.

It took her twenty minutes of checking everywhere that she could think of before she found them, sitting in a baking tray in the oven. Taking them out, Jean went back to the lounge and held them out to James, saying,

'Why were these in the oven?'


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: I am not a medical professional so I looked stuff up on the internet then made it up so, you know, it's wrong.

 **Happy New Year everyone.**

* * *

James looked at the bottle in Jean's hand and said,

'But they were on the mantelpiece.'

'That's where you left them?'

'Yes.'

'You're certain?'

'Yes, Ma'am.'

The second 'yes' was irritable, which Jean took as an encouraging sign that James was closer to his normal self. Jean looked again at the label on the bottle of sleeping tablets and asked,

'When did you start taking them?'

'Sunday.'

The prescription was for ten Zolpidem, one to be taken at bedtime, and it had been dispensed on Friday. Jean unscrewed the lid and tipped the tablets out and counted them. She swore then said,

'Was the pharmacist able to give you the full amount?'

'Yes. Why?'

'There are only six here.'

'That can't be right...Ma'am.'

Jean let James take the tablets from her, ignoring his shocked disbelief as he confirmed what she'd told him. Grabbing her laptop, she quickly googled Zolpidem and began reading the first reputable site. Two minutes later, Jean relaxed slightly. Turning back to James who was looking anxious as well as confused, she said,

'The good news is that we don't need to take you to get your stomach pumped and there shouldn't be any long term effects. You're well under the overdose amount.'

'Good.'

'However, I do think that you should see your doctor tomorrow and you mustn't drive until your co-ordination is back to normal.'

'I'm due in work.'

'Not now you're not,' Jean said firmly.

James' expression fixed mulishly and Jean knew that she would have to persuade him. She was about to tell him that it was Tuesday evening when his stomach rumbled loudly so instead she said,

'Why don't we carry on discussing this over dinner? I'll see what you've got in.'

She helped James stagger over to the kitchen and started rummaging through his fridge.

* * *

They ended up with omelettes with salad and jacket potatoes. Jean wanted to get some food into James as quickly as possible and his food stores were a bit low. Part way through the meal, James blinked then looked at her suspiciously, saying,

'Jean, why are you here?'

'I see your brain's started functioning again,' said Jean, caught between amusement and relief.

They had bumped into each other a couple of times recently in the second hand bookshop by the river and Jean had pointed out to James that she was no longer his boss and said that he could call her 'Jean' unless they were at a police function. He had been hesitant at first but had soon adjusted. The fact that he'd been calling her 'Ma'am' and his easy acceptance of her presence had been seriously worrying her.

'Lizzie called me when she couldn't get hold of you.'

'Why didn't she come round?'

'She did, several times. She didn't get any reply and she didn't want to cause you problems with you landlord by getting him to open up if you weren't here. She's been covering for you with DS Moody too.'

'Oh… Surely she didn't need to call you though?' said James, puzzled.

'James,' said Jean, gently, 'it's Tuesday evening.'

'Tuesday? But how?'

'One of the possible side effects of Zolpidem is sleepwalking. The evidence would suggest that at some point or points between Sunday and now you sleepwalked and took three extra sleeping tablets. It would explain why you were on the lounge floor, why the tablets were in the oven and why I had so much trouble waking you.'

'Is that why you threw cold water in my face? I thought you were just angry with me.'

'I was but it would take quite extreme circumstances for that to be the first method I used to wake someone. I'd tried all the usual techniques; shouting your name, shaking you, lifting your eyelids and so on. It was that or slap your face, which I really didn't want to do. If I'm going to slap a man's face I prefer them to be conscious.'

James winced, saying,

'I'm glad the cold water worked.'

Jean smiled wryly and said,

'So am I.'

James rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair, then said,

'Tuesday…So I've lost two days?'

'Yes,' said Jean sympathetically.

She looked at James' face and wished that she were better at reading him. His expression was blank but he'd scrunched up in his chair and Jean wished that they knew each other well enough for her to be able to offer him a hug. As it was, all she could do was wait whilst he processed it all. After about thirty seconds, James said,

'What should I do now?'

'You need to do three things, I think. Firstly, you need to ring DS Moody and back up Lizzie's story. She told him that you had food poisoning so I suggest you say that you've had an adverse reaction to some medication, which is the truth but doesn't get Lizzie into trouble. And it explains why you need to see your doctor tomorrow. Secondly, we need to replenish your food supplies. I'll drive you to the supermarket in a bit. And thirdly, you need to make an appointment to see you doctor. Do they have online booking for appointments?'

'My surgery doesn't have online booking; I'll have to call them tomorrow morning. I suppose I might as well ring Moody now though. Unless you think it's too late?'

James looked blankly at Jean as he spoke, realising that he had no idea what time it was.

'It's seven forty-five; it should be fine.'

* * *

James got his phone from the bedroom and called Moody, using the script that Jean had suggested, glad to avoid getting Lizzie into trouble. Once he'd finished, James said,

'You don't need to take me shopping, Jean. I can get a taxi.'

'It's no problem, James, I need to get some things too.'

'Are you sure?' asked James, hesitantly, aware that he'd already completely disrupted Jean's day.

'Yes. One thing though, James…'

'Yes?'

'The supermarket staff may not care but I am not walking around a supermarket with someone wearing pyjamas.'

James looked down at his clothes and blushed as he realised that Jean wasn't joking; he had just had a meal and spent an hour talking to his ex-boss whilst only in his pyjamas.

'I'll get dressed.'

James stood, relieved to find that his balance seemed to have returned, and, ignoring Jean's suppressed amusement, walked with dignity into his bedroom and closed the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Whilst James got ready, Jean sent Lizzie a text explaining what had happened then answered work emails. Half an hour later James was clean and dressed and they were in Jean's car, on the way to the supermarket. James yawned then said,

'If I've been asleep for two days, why do I still feel exhausted?'

'A reaction to the tablets or accumulated lack of sleep catching up with you perhaps? How much sleep had you been getting?'

'Not much,' admitted James, reluctantly, waiting for a lecture.

However, all Jean said was,

'It's always hard to take care of yourself after a bereavement. Remember, you've got friends if you want to talk.'

'I know. It's just…'

'You don't want to bother people? You're an adult who ought to be able to cope on their own?'

'Yes.'

'James, we all have times when we can't cope. My friends have spent the last six months getting their ears bent about my divorce because I needed to vent. It's what friends are for. You can call me any time you want to, you know.'

James looked down at the floor, embarrassed.

'Thank you,' he said, 'I'll bear it in mind.'

Jean looked as though she was going to push so he quickly changed the subject, saying,

'I'd noticed that you weren't wearing your wedding ring any more. Are you officially divorced now?'

'Yes, for a month now.'

'Are you all right?'

'Yes. Well, mostly. I feel lonely sometimes but it's better than being married to someone unfaithful.'

'He was unfaithful to you?' asked James, incredulously.

Jean smiled bitterly, saying,

'Apparently I'm not a patch on an eighteen year-old dancer he met at a strip club.'

'But that's absurd.'

James looked blankly at Jean and she smiled genuinely this time, warmed by his disbelief,

'She's encouraged him to buy a motorbike and go clubbing with her. It's so stereotypical of a midlife crisis that it would be funny if it hadn't destroyed my marriage.'

'But surely he must know it's just an infatuation?'

'He says that it's true love. I tried talking to him but he told me that I don't understand him and me trying to get him to give up the motorcycle before he killed himself was just a sign of the way I try to destroy all the joy in his life, apparently. I gave him a month to get it out of his system but when he was still adamant that Chloe was the love of his life, what else could I do but get a divorce?'

'Nothing.'

James tried to think of something comforting to say but all could think of was how right Jean had been to try to get her ex-husband to give up his bike, which even he realised wasn't the right thing to focus on. Wracking his brains, James tried to think what Robbie would say, eventually settling for,

'He'll regret it.'

'Almost certainly…but that's no longer my problem.'

There was a note of finality in Jean's voice and James was completely certain that her ex would not be welcome if he tried to crawl back to her at some later date. Which struck James as completely correct; he'd made his choice, after all. Trying to think of something suitable to say, James said,

'So, are you dating again?'

'No. It's hard to find men who are interested in dating a female senior police officer. Well, who don't want me to dress up in fake uniform and handcuff them to the bed anyway.'

James blushed furiously at the image but managed to say,

'Have you tried online?'

'No. I haven't really got time to date at the moment and…well, let's just say that my tolerance for bullshit is particularly low at the moment.'

'Understandable.'

'What about you, James? Are you seeing anyone at the moment?'

'No.'

He braced himself for a lecture on how he needed to find someone but Jean surprised him again, merely saying,

'I'm sure you'll find someone eventually.'

James shrugged, unable to share Jean's optimism. Not only was he truly terrible at talking to attractive women but, if he did somehow manage it, they were invariably put off by his job, his intelligence, his sarcasm or his hobbies.

* * *

They walked round the supermarket amicably but once they were back in the car, James tried to persuade Jean that she didn't need to take him to the doctor in the morning. Irritated, Jean said,

'James, I'm not a masochist; if I thought that you would be safe to drive I'd happily leave you to it and have a lie in.'

'I'm fine now.'

'Really? So you didn't have to keep leaning on the trolley to keep your balance, then?'

James grimaced, he hadn't thought that she'd noticed.

'I'm sure I'll be fine by tomorrow and if I'm not, I'll call a taxi.'

'Two problems with that: how will you know if you're all right and how will you get a taxi in time if they give you an early appointment?'

'But it doesn't seem fair to drag you out of bed. And don't you have to be in Ipswich by nine?'

'I've got the day off and don't worry, James, I've already decided how you're making it up to me.'

'Do I want to know?' asked James, nervously.

'It's nothing too bad. Just lunch tomorrow and then your company on Saturday night at a concert, assuming that you're off rota, that is?'

'Yes, I'm off. Which concert?'

'It's the Oxford Chamber Orchestra at Somerford College.'

'The Mozart?'

'Yes.'

'I tried to get tickets for that but by the time I knew I was off rota they had sold out.'

'Then you won't mind coming with me.'

'No. It's not really going to be much of a punishment for me, in fact.'

Amused, Jean said,

'Don't worry, I'm sure I can think of something else.'

She was rewarded with one of James' rare smiles.

* * *

After helping James carry his food into the house, Jean left him to it, saying,

'I'll be here at eight just in case you've overslept.'

James didn't try to protest; once Jean had made up her mind it was pointless to try to change it. Ducking his head to try to hide his emotions, James said,

'Thank you.'

'It's what friends do.'

James nodded even though in his experience most 'friends' were quick to abandon you if you had problems. He closed the door behind her and picked up his guitar hoping that losing himself in music would allow his subconscious to process what had happened.


	5. Chapter 5

When Jean arrived at James' flat at eight o'clock the following morning, James was dressed and waiting for her. He let her in, saying,

'Have you had breakfast?'

'Yes, thank you.'

'Would you like some tea or coffee?'

'Tea would be lovely, thank you.'

James went into the kitchen, turned the kettle on and busied himself with mugs and teabags. Jean followed him into the kitchen, saying,

'How are you feeling today?'

'Much better, thanks.'

'Good. And your co-ordination?'

'Almost back to normal.'

James would have loved to be able to tell Jean that he was absolutely fine but his innate honesty (combined with a healthy respect for Jean's ability to detect lies) forced him to tell the truth; his motor skills were still not quite as good as usual. Which meant that Jean had been correct to insist on coming over to take him to the doctor. Glancing at Jean, James was relieved to see only concern, no smugness. But then she rarely gloated, saving it for special occasions, like when they'd had the best clear-up rate in the entire country.

* * *

They sipped tea and chatted until the surgery was open and James could start the continuous dialling and redialling necessary to get through first thing in the morning. After twenty minutes, he'd managed to get an appointment at 10.20 that morning.

'Which surgery is it?' asked Jean.

'London Road.'

'Then we could go to the antiquarian bookshop down the road from the surgery beforehand, if you're feeling well enough?'

James smiled,

'Yes, though it doesn't open until nine-thirty.'

'We'll have to keep an eye on the time then.'

James agreed, glad that he'd managed to contain his surprise when he'd first met Jean in one of Oxford's antiquarian bookshops several years ago. Jean was the first of his colleagues that he'd met at a bookshop and the only one that he bumped into in bookshops on a regular basis. Casual conversations over the years had revealed that Jean was a voracious reader of everything except crime (which she found either wildly unrealistic or too much like work).

* * *

They filled the time until they could leave with talk about work. Jean told James her first impressions of her new colleagues and the changes that she wanted to make then asked James how things were in the Oxford nick. At first James was hesitant to criticise DS Moody to Jean but she easily interpreted his hesitation, saying,

'I did try to explain you and Robbie to Moody but he clearly thought that I was only keeping Robbie on for sentimental reasons. Have they managed to come to some sort of understanding?'

'Yes.'

The grudging 'yes' spoke volumes and Jean smiled as she said,

'And have you forgiven him for being so dismissive of Robbie yet?'

James smiled reluctantly,

'Mostly…'

'But?'

James hesitated again so Jean said,

'James, we're friends; I'm not going to repeat what you tell me.'

'He, Moody, keeps coming to crime scenes and demands continuous updates. I just don't feel that he trusts us.'

'He probably doesn't. Do you know what used to happen to him?'

'No, what?'

'This is not for general knowledge though people will no doubt find out, but someone at his last posting realised that you can't be accused of racism if you don't do or say anything but instead you just cut him out of the loop.'

'They cut him out of the loop?'

'Yes, he wouldn't be told important information, they would hold informal meetings without him and his junior officers were encouraged to funnel information to other officers rather than to him.'

'But that's disgraceful.'

'Indeed it is. I understand that someone more senior did eventually sort the situation out but it left Moody wary.'

'I'm not surprised. I'm amazed he didn't leave.'

'And let them win? I don't think so.'

James raised an eyebrow at Jean's vehemence and she said,

'Oh, I've never had anything like that happen to me but I've lost count of the number of times that colleagues have made sexist remarks, suggesting that I'm not strong enough, intelligent enough, brave enough or aggressive enough to be a police officer.'

'They can't have known you very well.'

'Thank you, James. No, they didn't because all it did was make me more determined to succeed. I suspect that Moody is the same.'

James acknowledged Jean's comment with a nod, looking thoughtful and Jean left it at that, hoping that she might have helped James to a better understanding of his new superior. Whether James and Moody would ever become friends, Jean doubted as they had no interests in common but as long as they could respect each other that didn't matter.

* * *

Two-and-a-half hours later, they'd each bought several books and James had had his appointment. Jean waited until they were in the privacy of her car before asking,

'How did it go?'

'All right. I'm not allowed to drive for the rest of the day and I've been advised never to take Zolpidem again but fundamentally, I'm completely well.'

'Good. Are you allowed to work today?'

'Yes.'

'In which case, you can buy me an early lunch then I'll drop you off at the station.'

'Thank you.'

* * *

They found a café that served food all day on the edge of one of the industrial parks. They deliberately avoided the centre of town knowing that it would be full of tourists at this time of year. Once they'd ordered, Jean and James chatted about the books they'd bought.

'Any decent bookshops in Ipswich?' asked James.

'A couple. Mostly chains though and nowhere near as good as Oxford.'

'Are you moving over there?'

'I'll have to. It's too far to commute and staying in a hotel's too expensive long term.'

'Aren't you getting the hotel paid for?'

'For now I am, yes, but not for much longer. I've found a place that does weekly lodging but I need to get the house on the market and start looking for something over there.'

Jean grimaced as she said it and James said, hesitantly,

'Do you have to? Could you afford to lodge in Ipswich weekly and keep your house here?'

'Yes and no. Firstly, I have to have a place over there otherwise it looks as though I'm not committed to the job. Secondly, the house here is too big for one person and well… my recent memories of it aren't that pleasant. But it would be nice to have somewhere here for when I come back to visit…'

'What are house prices like in Ipswich?'

'About two thirds of Oxford's, depending where you are.'

James thought about Jean's large house in a very desirable area of Oxford and said,

'Why don't you buy a flat here and a house in Ipswich?'

'I'm not sure… possibly.'

'Do you have to split the proceeds of your house sale with your ex-husband?' asked James hesitantly.

He watched Jean's face nervously, worried that he'd overstepped but Jean merely looked thoughtful, saying,

'No, he gets the flat in London so has to pay me money, in fact. So there would be plenty of money for both… But do I want the hassle of owning two places?'

'I'd be happy to check on a flat here for you a couple of times a week.'

'Thank you, James,' said Jean, touched, 'that would make it easier. I would like a place in Oxford…'

Jean lapsed into thought and James left her to it.

* * *

After lunch, Jean dropped James off at the police station. As they said good bye, Jean gave him a piece of paper with her personal email on it, saying,

'In case you need to talk to anyone.'

'Thank you,' said James, 'but I don't want to be a nuisance.'

'You won't be.'

James was looking down at the floor and Jean knew that he wouldn't email her unless she could convince him that she needed the contact too,

'I could use someone to vent to about work, if you wouldn't find it too onerous?' she said.

'Really?'

There was a wealth of scepticism in James' voice and Jean firmly suppressed a smile as she said,

'There are some things that people who aren't police officers just don't understand. And I wouldn't have to worry about telling you details of cases either.'

'All right,' said James.

He wrote his personal email address down on a piece of paper and handed it to her.

'Thank you, James. I promise not to send you cat videos.'

James smiled saying,

'I'm afraid I can't promise the same; some of the videos that Gurdip finds are amazing.'

Jean smiled back and said,

'I miss his technical expertise.'

'He is one of a kind.'

James looked at Jean hesitantly and she realised that even though she was no longer his boss he was waiting to be dismissed. Smiling, she said,

'Take care of yourself, James, and I'll see you on Saturday.'

'Yes. And thank you again.'

'You've already thanked me several times, James, no need to do it again. Now, isn't it time you were doing some work?'

'Absolutely. I shall present myself at the coalface immediately.'

James struck a pose, saluted and got out of the car, leaving Jean chuckling at his facetiousness. They waved at each other and Jean drove off.


	6. Chapter 6

James smiled as he read the email from Jean. One of her subordinates apparently held views "so archaic that Noah would have been dismayed" and she'd been forced to "educate him". A chuckle escaped James' lips as he imagined Jean in full flow, ruthlessly cutting through the hapless man's nonsense. The smile stayed on James' face as he finished reading Jean's email and hit 'Reply'.

* * *

Jean felt her mood lighten as she saw the email from James in her Inbox. It had been a difficult day and tomorrow would no doubt be hard work too. Settling in to her new job was taking longer than she'd expected, probably because rather a lot of her colleagues seemed to think that she was some sort of token appointment, there to make the equality numbers look better. They were all beginning to realise their mistake but it had been really good to be able to vent to James. She opened the email and began to read, smiling at James' sarcastic phrasing. James had included a link to a cat video sent to him by Gurdip and by the time that she'd watched it, Jean's bad mood had completely evaporated. Feeling invigorated, she began to plan the next stage in her quest to make equality a reality for everyone who worked for her.

* * *

Jean smiled at her reflection in the mirror, delighted to be going to a concert in Oxford purely for pleasure. There was no networking to be done and no political agenda to watch out for; she was simply going to enjoy the music. Another joy was that she didn't have to worry for hours over what she was going to wear, as her clothes choices no longer reflected directly on the Oxfordshire constabulary. Now all she had to do was wear an outfit appropriate for the weather and the occasion. They would be sitting indoors and it was a warm day so Jean had chosen a summer dress with a cardigan for later. It flattered her figure without being revealing and was comfortable to sit in. She had a comfortable pair of sandals on and her hair was down. All in all, she felt better about going out than she had done in a very long time.

James rang Jean's doorbell and smiled as she came out, thinking that she looked relaxed and happy.

'Are you happy to go straight there or do you want to go somewhere for a drink first?' asked Jean.

They had agreed to meet early and travel together because parking was likely to be difficult; Oxford's car parks filled up quickly on Saturday nights. It was one of the reasons why James was driving – if the worst came to the worst, they could park at the police station and walk from there. The other reason that James was driving was so that Jean could drink. He was supposed to be being punished after all.

'We might as well go straight there. They'll have drinks and that way we can get good seats,' replied James.

'Okay.'

They chatted idly on the way into town and were lucky enough to find a parking spot near the college so they had ample time to get drinks and choose the seats with the best acoustics. Jean was mildly amused by the precision with which James chose the seats but had no difficulty at all in believing that these were the best seats. James had undoubtedly worked it out beforehand or simply already knew as part of the vast amount of knowledge stored in his incredible brain.

* * *

The music was sublime and neither of them wanted to move when the interval came but people needed to get past them so Jean wandered off to get another drink and James went to have a cigarette. When he came back, Jean had been cornered by one of the local councillors, who was trying to get her opinion on the latest Oxfordshire crime statistics. With a smirk, James walked over to them and said,

'There you are, Jean. We should go back to our seats.'

James carefully placed his hand at the small of Jean's back, hoping that she would understand that it was part of his rescue attempt, and escorted her away from the councillor. He relaxed as she made no attempt to pull away.

Jean smiled up at him but waited until they were sitting down before murmuring,

'Thank you.'

'You're welcome. Did he miss the memo about your promotion?'

'No idea. He didn't stop talking for long enough for me to remind him that he was wasting his time.'

'Never mind. He'll presumably notice when DS Moody turns up to the next meeting.'

Jean chuckled and said,

'You'd hope so.'

The orchestra resumed their seats and they sat back and lost themselves in the music again.

* * *

After the concert, they walked slowly back to car, talking about the music. Jean had had virtually no formal education in music theory so was delighted when James could explain various things that had puzzled her. They spent the trip back to her house chatting animatedly and both were disappointed when they arrived. Jean thanked James and got out the car, saying,

'I've got some more concert tickets. Would you be interested in coming with me?'

'If I'm off rota… and as long as it isn't songs from musicals,' said James, grimacing.

'You don't like musicals?'

'Not much and I really don't like compilations of songs from musicals.'

'I think you're fairly safe. I certainly don't remember any musicals. I'll email you the dates.'

'Okay.'

They said goodnight and James waited until Jean was in the house before driving off.


End file.
